#roscnburg

[dcrrikrosc]

The Rosenburg family portrait! Holiday themed, tis the season for family dysfunction, after all.

@roscnburg

[dcrrikrosc]

@roscnburg

    “… You’re not wrong,” Derrik cracked a smile, leaning forward in his chair. It was times like this where his daughter reminded him of the young man he once was. Maybe not as ambitious–at least, not openly. Perhaps it was a good thing that Ingrid favored him over her mother, dark hair, chocolate eyes and all. It was easier to forget the honey eyes and auburn hue of Heidi’s hair–though it was painfully obvious that he never would. Derrik had a general dislike of Ingrid’s cousins roaming around the kingdom, but it gave him satisfaction that she stood out as a raven among doves, cut from the same cloth as her father.

    “I wanted to speak of our future–Bolstaor’s future,” He gave a glance around, as if someone was listening. The walls did have ears, after all, “Despite our assurances to the people, not even we know what is to become of us, of the world we live in, of what sits on the horizon,” With a gentleness that was thought to be lost to him, Derrik took his daughter’s soft hands, squeezing them between his own, “There is no certainty of my life being preserved through this ordeal, nor if the last day I see you will truly be the last.”

    After a brief pause, he continued, “This is much bigger than Bolstaor. All of Hlandul is our land. Your land,” Thumb running over her knuckles, he furrowed his brow, looking at his daughter’s face attentively, “You are my one, true heir. No wife, or child, is going to change that. I want you to be assured that yours is the head that will hold the crown of nations–of your own blood, not of marriage. You will stand at no one’s feet.”